Proditor
by tavari
Summary: Why does Peter Pettigrew sell the Potter's to Voldemort? This is the story of Wormtail begining right before he becomes the Potter's secret keeper. Formerly titled Until the End.
1. A Change of Heart

Disclaimer- I know you're all under the impression that J.K Rowling writes fan fiction for her own books on this site and that this is one of the many she has posted, but that is sadly not the case (though I wish it was) ^_^  
  
Peter Pettigrew idly sat on a musty sofa in a room above the three broomsticks. His pale blonde hair hung about his round face, and he hugged himself with short, chubby arms as though for protection. His eyes flitted about the small room, as though he suspected that somebody would jump out at him any second. Discarded butterbear bottles were strewn over the floor, and plates of unfinished food had been left on every available surface. His forearm still burned where The Dark Lord had put his mark, though the actual ordeal had taken place several weeks ago. He shivered to think about it, and hugged himself tighter, as though that would protect him.  
Shakily, he pushed himself up off the couch and walked towards the fireplace, where he conjured up some lively flames with his wand. He stared at them, eyes reflecting the bouncing tendrils of light. And then, on impulse, he slowly pulled up the sleeve of his robe. There it was, the cold skeletal face with a serpent in place of a tongue. He stared at it with sickened fascination, as though the arm was not his own but somebody else's. The light of the fire dance around the simple black lines that bonded him with his master.  
"Alright there Wormtail?" A mocking voice said from behind him.  
Peter squeaked and spun around, yanking down the sleeve of his robe. "S- Sirius!" he exclaimed.  
"No, no... Voldemort's not here to get you. You're not important enough for him..." Sirius remarked. But despite the light words, Peter noticed the dark circles under the other man's eyes, and his unusually pale face.  
Peter shuddered to hear the name of his master spoken aloud, and winced, though Sirius did not notice. In fact, Sirius never seemed to take notice of him at all, other than the occasional jibe directed at him. "So er... sit down," Peter said, gesturing at the couch he had been sitting on.  
Sirius did so, though there was an unusual wariness in the way he sat down.  
Peter expected his friend to make some comment about the disarray of the place, but he didn't. His mind was preoccupied with other, darker things.  
"Well, Peter," Sirius began.  
Immediately a trace of fear wound it's way through Peter's mind. The marauders never used each other's real names unless something was wrong. Had Sirius found out about The Dark Lord and his new servant? The mere thought about it was enough to make his hands shake, and the dark mark upon his forearm tingled. "Yes?" Peter asked.  
"I, well... it's about James, and well, you know... I think they're still in danger..."  
"But," Said Peter as he uncorked a bottle of butterbeer for the sake of doing something, "They can't still be in danger from he-who must not-"  
"Peter," Said Sirius darkly, "Why do you fear his name?"  
"I..." But Peter did not, could not, finish.  
"Well," Sirius continued, giving him a scrutinizing glance, "The thing is, well, everybody knows James and I have been... very close friends. And, I don't know... Voldemort obviously has somebody tracking the Potter's movements-"  
Peter winced at this, but did not say anything.  
"And I think that the spy would have noticed James and my friendship." Sirius was toying with a loose thread as he spoke, and he did not look Peter directly in the eye.  
"So..." Peter said, "Your point is?"  
Sirius took a deep breath, as though bracing himself for some near impossible obstacle.  
"My point, Peter, is that I am not a good secret keeper. Gods knows I would do anything to protect him and his family, and if it weren't for the fact that our friendship is so well known..." Sirius paused here, and gripped his knees as though for support. "I've talked to James, Peter, and I, we, think that it would be better for you to be the secret keeper."  
Immediately a torrent of raging emotions rushed through Peter, and combated against one another for dominance. This was it; if he was the Potter's secret keeper, he could tell The Dark Lord everything, he could hand over the Potter's lives and become The Dark Lord's most valuable servant. And then there was his love and admiration for James. He alone had been given the opportunity to protect them. He, Wormtail, always the "stupid" one could save, of all people, James, Lily, and Harry.  
As if to remind him of his allegiances, the dark mark seared across his forearm, and grimacing, he absentmindedly clutched it.  
"What is there to think about?" Sirius snapped; apparently he had noticed the grimace, and the long silence that had preceded it. "If I were you, which thankfully I most certainly am not, I would jump at the chance to help James in this way! Besides," he said quieting slightly, "you would be the last person Voldemort would even think to check up on."  
A delicious anger immediately filled Wormtail, and all of a sudden, he was remembering every single nasty comment he had had to endure when in the company of Sirius and James. They had been the two most popular boys at Hogwarts in their time, and he, Wormtail, had been just another anonymous figure in the mass of students. Like everybody else, he had been drawn to James and Sirius, and he had tried to be like them. He had been ecstatic when they, and Remus of course, came up with the idea of the Marauders. He had felt important then. He was one of Sirius and James's inner-circle! But now, he saw looking back, they never really had thought of him as an equal. He was not good-looking, particularly witty, up to their intelligence...  
This put his choice into new perspective. Be belittled his entire life by those whose lives he could save, or, to be the most powerful wizard's most trusted companion. "I'll do it!" He heard a voice besides his own say in answer to his question.  
A tiny smile flickered over Sirius's face. "I knew you would, Peter," he said clapping the smaller man's shoulder, "Marauders 'til the end!"  
"Yes," Peter said, noting the new meaning behind their old slogan, " 'til the end." 


	2. Betrayal

"Stay here, you can hide here, and lie low," Sirius said as he was leaving, "I will check up on you."  
Hide here, and lie low, Peter repeated to himself, restraining a chuckle. How foolish Sirius was! He could check up on Peter all he wanted- but he would not be waiting. Oh no, he would be with The Dark Lord, reaping in glories and honors that Sirius could not even begin to fathom. But, "Yes Sirius," was all he said. It was funny how often he had said those two words. The thought to disobey Sirius had never even crossed his mind until now, so eager was he to make and maintain "friends." And now the thought he would do something for himself was liberating. It was the start of a new life for him.  
  
He was glad when the door finally shut behind Sirius. He was surprised to find that he did not feel even the slightest twinge of regret to see him go. After waiting several minutes to see if the man would return, Peter again pushed back the sleeve on his arm, revealing the dark mark.  
It glistened in the firelight, beckoning to him. "I am coming master," he whispered. Gingerly, he placed the thumb of his left hand on the mark, and willed to see his master. He felt himself lifting off the ground. Images of the room became blurry, and they wavered in front of his pale blue eyes. And then they were gone, and he found himself in a cold stone chamber, that not even the light of the fire could light.  
"Wormtail..." A voice so cold it made him shiver spoke from out of the darkness. "What news do you bring me now?"  
Hastily, Peter flung himself on the floor, like a traitor begging his king for mercy, "Master!" He breathed.  
He heard a rustling above him, and when he glanced up, he saw the velvet folds of his master's cloak arrayed upon the floor directly in front of him. He felt, rather than saw others approach; other death eaters always on hand to do their master's bidding. And there were snakes to, slithering around him, red eyes taking in every stray thread in his robes, every grain of dirt in his hair.  
"Speak! Wormtail, what news do you bring?"  
"Master!" His voice was low now, transformed with excitement. Already he pictured his awards. Wormtail, Voldemort's right hand! He shivered in delicious excitement. No more would he be looked down upon. "Master," he repeated, "The Potter's have made me their secret keeper!"  
Cold laughter erupted from somewhere high above his head. It filled the room, his ears, and his mind. He waited for the praise to begin, ears aching to hear the sound of his master's approval. But all he heard was laughter. It surrounded him, cold and unfeeling.  
"You, have done well Wormtail," Voldemort finally said. "Come."  
Peter rose, shakily to his feet, feeling the merciless stares of the deatheaters on him. Then, apprehensively, he gazed up into the face of his master. It was more snake-like than human. The Dark Lord possessed red eyes that gazed out of deadly white skin, stretched taught over the fine bones of the man/ snakes face. Instead of a nose, he possessed two slits in the middle of his face, and his teeth were more fanglike than anything. Peter shivered, and stepped back.  
Voldemort leered at him, "Yes, Wormtail, you have done well. I have business with the Potters tonight!" Again he was laughing. But there was no joy in it. The Dark Lord was beyond any human feeling. Compassion and happiness had long been drained of Voldemort, leaving behind a cold, merciless creature.  
Peter listened, all sense of grandeur fading. It was replaced by despair. What had he done? No! He abruptly told himself. He could not think of the Potters. He would be rewarded...in time.  
The deatheaters were laughing now with their master, and the snakes around him swished to and fro, eyes and scales flashing in the cold cold fire. Peter shuddered convulsively and clutched his cloak to him as though for protection. And then he felt something seeping out of him. He quickly looked up, to see a trail of silvery white shadow extending from his master's hand to his own mind. It formed a misty globe in Voldemort's palm, and The Dark Lord looked at it lovingly, though love had long since departed from him.  
Peter stared at it with numb fascination. His betrayal of James, Lily, and all the others was now complete. The Potter's secret keeper had betrayed them.  
And then the globe vanished; sinking into Voldemort's palm, and the Dark Lord was brushing past Peter, robes floating out from behind the tall form.  
Peter stared at the retreating figure. He was surrounded only by anonymous deatheaters and snakes now. And unbidden, a tear slid down his pale cheek.  
"Betrayed my dear cousin and his friends now!" A feminine voice hissed in his ear.  
Peter squeaked and glanced up, "Who are you?"  
The woman laughed, though it was more of a screechy scream than true laughter, "If I told you my identity would you not betray me to?"  
Then they were all surrounding him. Dozens of deatheaters circled about Peter, dissecting him with unfeeling eyes, and muttering dark thoughts. Suddenly Peter felt like a small child then. He squeezed his eyes shut and clapped his pudgy hands over his ear. He needed protection now- from all these...people... But there was nobody. He was surrounded by those who cared only for themselves. They would not hesitate to murder; all were out to survive, in the cold, hard world.  
  
Just like him. 


	3. Resolve

After several unnaturally long hours, the deatheaters drifted back into the darkness from whence they came, and Peter curled up in the corner. His eyes uneasily scanned the large room, lingering on the shadowed corners. But he could not see anything.  
Images of James, Lily, and Harry poured through his mind, laughing, talking, hugging, pervaded his every thought. Were they dead yet? He wondered. He tried to image the scene that was taking place thousands of miles away in Godric's Hollow, and, against his will, a silvery tear escaped from his eye. He shook his head violently, as though that would rid him of the terrible thoughts. But they persisted, tormenting him. And then an image of Sirius materialized before him, eyes alight with madness and rage, and wand pointed at Peter's head. "Sirius no!" He whispered, squeezing his eyes shut. Though the visage of Sirius had been only the product of his own imagination, it filled him with cold terror. He would have to go into hiding... He knew how Sirius loved James as a brother... He would not let his friend's death pass un-avenged. Peter trembled, and pulled his cloak tighter about him. He must not think these thoughts; he had to think about the other, brighter side. The Dark Lord would surely reward him. Hadn't he promised any death eater who supplied him with information regarding the Potter's great riches? Yes, he had. But where was he?  
Images of James and the Dark Lord Dueling appeared, unbidden in his mind. James was superb at dueling, but no match for The Dark Lord himself. Smoke clouded the room around the two fighting figures, and James was coughing, and hurling curses and hexes at his opponent in rapid succession. And then a flash of green lit up the room, and James fell, his body crashing into a broken table. Peter fought the urge to cry out as James's eyes grew wide in pain, and his breath became labored, and then stopped. He could see The Dark Lord laughing now, red eyes filled with cold amusement. And then he calmly stepped over the fallen body, in search of Lily and Harry, no doubt. Horrible waves of guilt and shame swept over Peter. He retched, violently onto the floor beside him. He needed to talk to somebody, to wait alone was terrible! He rested his head back against the wall, and willed somebody to come find him. But nobody did, and, after while he fell into a deep sleep.   
"YOU KILLED HIM! YOU KILLED HIM YOU BRAINLESS RAT!" A voice was shrieking somewhere above him.  
Peter slowly opened his eyes, to see a tall woman with a shock of black hair and heavy lidded eyes. Her cheeks were red with rage, and her hands trembled.  
"What?" Peter said slowly.  
"YOU SENT HIM TO HIS DEATH!"  
"I..." Peter's stomach dropped, and his mind became a swirl. "Did, did J-James kill him then?" He whispered.  
The woman's eyes narrowed and bored into him mercilessly, "No," She hissed.  
Peter flattened himself against the wall, shaking.  
"The boy killed him."  
Peter didn't know whether to be confused or terrified, "But- the Dark Lord.... He can't be killed. He's invincible..."  
"Don't you dare blather on like that!" The woman snapped. "I will kill you. I will ensure your last moments will be more painful than anything you've ever-"  
"Bellatrix," A man's voice interrupted from the doorway.  
The woman spun, "Lucius," She said curtly. "What news?"  
"Aurors are making raids. They know he is gone. We must hide-"  
Abruptly Bellatrix turned back to Peter. "Do you see what you have done?" She hissed. "You have ruined us!"  
"Is that it?" Lucius asked, his eyes immediately focusing in on the huddled form.  
Peter stared back, seemingly seeing everything, but not comprehending anything. His mind was elsewhere; with his master, with the Potters, and somewhere he could not even begin to describe.  
"Yes," Bellatrix was exclaiming. "The bloody traitor... he killed the Dark Lord... sent him to his death. But oh- he shall die! I will kill him. He has ruined us all!" She raised her wand, and Peter felt the cold tip rest just above his right ear.  
Let it end! Peter thought grimly. There was nothing for him... nothing at all. He had killed members of both sides. He had failed everyone. But his wished was not granted.  
"Don't be rash, Bella," Lucius said, pushing aside her wand with his own.  
"You'd let it live?" Bellatrix exclaimed, dark eyes narrowing in fury.  
"Only in a sense, Bella, they say Azkaban is worse than death. Let him rot there, drowning in his own guilt until madness takes over. Madness, and then nothing. He will be empty.  
Real terror gripped Peter's heart. This was something... more real than the recent events. Something he could comprehend. Azkaban... he had been raised on stories of the monstrosity and utter desolation on the place. Death was more inviting. And they would not give it to him.  
"See how he trembles? Lucius asked, cold gray eyes staring at the pitiable figure. "Let us leave. They will find him... he is not smart enough to evade the aurors of the ministry."  
"But where shall we go?" Bella protested. "We shall be sold out by the others... Will be put on trial, and then..."  
"Oh, don't fret... With my influence it will be no problem to pull a few strings at the ministry."  
"But what about me?"  
Lucius sighed, "If brought to trial, denounce him. Say you were under the impediment curse. They will not be able to persecute you then..."  
"I," Bellatrix interrupted, "Will never denounce The Dark Lord like some mudblood scum. I shall remain loyal. If I go on trial- so be it!" her very features seem to straighten as she spoke, as though filled with a new resolve.  
"Well, Bella, if that is your course I cannot help you. Farewell then."  
Bellatrix nodded, and the two turned away from one another, departing in different directions.  
Peter watched them go, not sure whether to be happy or frightened. And then the thought of Azkaban came back... Ah! The dementors.... He shivered. He had seen them once before. The Dark Lord had summoned them once. They were more than terrifying. There was a terrible aura that surrounded them, encompassing all the fears in this world. He could not bear being around them... There was only one choice for him. He would have to go out into the world once again. Always hiding... The Death of the Dark lord would not turn Sirius's fury away.  
Warily, Peter stood up and brushed off his cloak. His ears strained to hear something other than the ominous silence, but, apart from his heavy breathing, there was nothing. All the other deatheaters had fled, and he was now quite alone in the large citadel that had been The Dark Lord's base. He looked around the main hall one last time and then departed through a small wooden door.  
The citadel was filled with twisting hallways and corridors, and rooms of all shapes and sizes could be found opening onto the never-ending halls. The place had obviously been deserted in a hurry. Half eaten bowls of soup were left casually on the lintels and occasional table, robes and masks had been left in crumpled heaps upon the floor, and the mice and rats had already begun to take over the place.  
Rats... Peter stopped in his tracks, and a glimmer of thought appeared. He had a secret alias that nobody knew of! Well, nobody except for... no he could not yet think those names. They would never tell the ministry anyways. By doing so, they'd be turning themselves in as well... He would not be found unless he wanted to be. He resumed walking, running over various scenes in which he defied the entire ministry. He chuckled, in spite of himself. The laugh, small as it was seemed out of place in the gloomy building. It held so many mysteries, so many secrets, and ears... The hairs on the back of his neck prickled, and, nervously he looked behind him, expecting to see a robed pursuer.  
Don't be silly! He told himself. They've all gone!  
Because of you, another voice responded.  
It was an accident!  
You will still be blamed.  
They wont find me.  
The Dark Lord has eyes and ears everywhere...  
He is dead now.  
He can't die, the other voice persisted.  
Then what happened? He protested inwardly.  
The other voice did not answer, but seeds of doubt manifested themselves in Peter's mind. What if The Dark Lord wasn't dead? Maybe he could still find protection and hiding would be unnecessary...  
He stopped in front of a large window, overlooking a vast and wild wood. How peaceful and simple everything seemed on the surface! But oh, what it hid...  
  
Note- this chapter is not my favorite, but it was necessary to bridge the gap between 1 & 3 obviously ^_^ The next chapter will hopefully be more interesting- it's going to be about Sirius and Peter's encounter. Sorry for the lack of updates lately, I've had a ton of work for school. But I will be on Spring Break next week so I should get a lot done then ^_^ 


	4. Confrontation

London was a bustling city, filled with narrow twisting streets, shops, homes, and people. All in all, it was the perfect place to blend in, Peter concluded. The past several weeks had been spent finding a way towards the big city, always under the guise of the muggle. He was fairly certain that the aurors of the ministry would not suspect him of his treachery, but it wouldn't hurt to lie low for a while... and Sirius was always an issue as well. He alone knew of Peter's trade, he, and possibly Remus as well.  
Peter paused in front of a small bakery, observing the bustling activity through the paned window. He could smell the fresh bread and baking pastries... and his stomach rumbled accordingly. He hadn't eaten in several days, and his once pink skin had become sallow and white. He fingered a knut in his left hand. If only he had thought to change it into muggle currency! He wasn't ready to beg. Not yet.  
He forced himself to move on down the street, past vegetable vendors and boutiques, observing all the people with a disconnected kind of interest.  
"Lost, sir?" A constable asked.  
Peter jerked around, "Ah, yes..." he mumbled.  
"Well, if you need any assistance..." The man said, touching the beak of his hat.  
Peter forced his lips into a smile before continuing his trek down the winding street. He clasped his hands behind his back, hoping to look like the average peaceful passerby with no trouble in the world. A sharp tug on the back of his cloak brought him back to life.  
A small girl, around four with sandy blonde hair and wide brown eyes was the culprit. She grinned up at him, and held up a small white daisy in her pudgy fist. "Flower!" She said beaming.  
"Er..." Peter said, extracting the flower from her hand, "Thanks..."  
"Mary, come back here!" A woman with wavy brown hair scolded. With a stern look at Mary, she turned towards Peter. "Sorry, she's a handful."  
"Oh, no problem..." And then he turned away. Why did all these people have to talk to him? But he held on to the daisy, twirling it in his hand. It was an amazing thing, a flower... Absorbed with the flower he held, he did not notice his surroundings, the elderly, the laughing young, and the contemplative parents, and he most certainly did not notice the robed figure that materialized out of nowhere behind him.  
"So, Wormtail..." A voice hissed in his ear.  
Wormtail...no... Very few people knew him by that name. And none of them were people he wanted to meet ever again. He spun around, hand instinctively reaching for his wand.  
"Scared eh?" Sirius grinned, eyes dancing. But not with delight, with something more sinister, something...not right.  
"S- Sirius!" Peter squeaked. He stepped backward.  
"You didn't expect to see me?" Sirius asked, that deranged grin still on his handsome face. And then his voice dropped to a doglike growl, laced with agony. "You traitor! You killed him! You killed them all.... Oh I will make you pay. You will beg for death before I'm done with you!" He raised his wand menacingly at Peter's skull. Sirius's hand was trembling with anticipation.  
"Expelliarmus!" Peter cried, heart beating frantically within his chest.  
Sirius flew backwards, propelled by a jet of red. An angry, almost hysterical cry sprung out of his mouth.  
The once bustling street had turned a deadly quiet, and Peter was uncomfortably aware of all the confounded people. Mother's clutched their children to their bodies and couples clung to each other. And all of their questioning, fearful glances were directed at the two men.  
Sirius quickly got to his feet, an eerie grin across his face. He was breathing hard, and Peter watched his old friends chest rise and fall hypnotically.  
"You ready?" Sirius asked, raising his wand once again.  
Peter raised his wand as well, but fear gripped him, paralyzing him.  
Sirius noted this, for to Peter's consternation, he began to laugh. But it was no ordinary laugh; it was the laugh of a deranged man. "Always the coward eh? You should've known I would have found you..."  
"I..."  
"Going to beg for mercy?" Sirius asked, his smile widening.  
"No, I..."  
"Don't wet yourself now... Death can't be worse than Azkaban. You know- that's where they'll put you. Azkaban... that's the place where they put traitors, murderers, supporters of Voldemort- What can't bear to here your master's name?"  
It was the mention of Azkaban that's cared Peter more than anything. Even more than the mystery that was death. "You love the sound of your own voice more than anything, more than James I'd wager." Under the circumstance that was not the most brilliant thing to say, but boldness had descended over Peter. Being threatened with death rekindled a fierce desire to live.  
The smile was immediately wiped off Sirius's face, but only for a second. And when the man looked up again, he was smiling, and his eyes were bright. Too bright.  
Were those tears that glittered? Peter wondered.  
"I will kill you," Sirius said, with that uncanny beam of his.  
Peter was about to respond with a tart reply, but the words stuck in his throat. His short-lived bravado fled, and again he stood there, trembling. His widened pale eyes swept over the motionless crowd. He could hear sirens in the distance... In an almost detached way, he turned back to Sirius, surveying the coal black hair, the glittering eyes, the pale cheeks, the handsome features, and the supernatural hysteria and grief that had rooted itself in his face. "It's your fault they died," he whispered.  
Sirius's face froze, and he turned away for a moment, and when he turned back Peter could see that his eyes indeed were full of tears. "Live with that thought always, Padfoot."  
"You rat!" Sirius screamed.  
A plan began to take shape in Peter's mind at the mention of rats, and he smiled. "You will be the rat in people's eyes, Sirius. I will be the hero."  
"And why do you think that?" Sirius asked. His voice had dropped in volume again, and was now a purr.  
Peter grinned, and backed up several steps, raising his wand. "Lily and James-"He cried aloud. "How could you?"  
Sirius's eyes widened as he determined Peter's scheme. With a snarl he raised his wand. "Inflatus!" He roared.  
But Peter was quicker. "Excessum!" He cried. He did not stop to see how his curse played out. With cold hands he yanked out his pocketknife and sliced off one of his fingers. And then, he morphed into his rat form and scuttled into the nearby sewer drain, where he observed everything. The two curses collided, and the blast that resulted was deafening. Immediately the sky disappeared and an acrid smoke covered the street. Screams echoed and snaked their way through the smoke. And Peter the rat shuddered when the screams finally stopped, plunging the street into an ghostly quiet, disrupted only by the occasional crash of falling timber, stone, and he did not like to think of what else.  
It was several minutes before he could see through the smoke. The scene that unveiled itself resembled a war zone. Fallen bodies were scattered over the ground, littered also with crushed glass, stones, and wood beams. The smell of death and smoke filled Peter's nostrils, and his eyes watered. And then, from out of the wreckage rose the familiar figure of Sirius, laughing. Standing among the corpses, ruins, and misery he laughed. His head was thrown back and he was caked with grime and blood. Yet still he laughed. And he laughed when members of the ministry's hit squad came to cart him off to Azkaban. "You know- that's where they'll put you. Azkaban... that's the place where they put traitors, murderers, supporters of Voldemort"... Sirius's own phrase, uttered only moments before. The rat smiled to itself, and then scampered down to join the other sewer rats.  
  
_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ So- this didn't come out as well as I'd hoped, so I might re-write it sometime ^_^ 


End file.
